


it won't be long till we're all dead from it

by aisu10



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Disease, Gen, Gore, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Organs, Surgery, Vivisection, basically its just REALLY DISGUSTING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/pseuds/aisu10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this experimental procedure might hurt more than it helps</p>
            </blockquote>





	it won't be long till we're all dead from it

harry imagines the scalpel would be cold, if he could feel it. but his body is currently numbed from the neck down and though he can see the metal slicing deftly through his skin, he might as well be watching this vivisection happen to someone else instead of himself. in his desperation harry has turned to a multitude of different experimental procedures to cure his illness. the surgeon currently carving a t-shape from his collarbones to his belly button was convinced that the remedy for his sickness could only be uncovered by examining his organs directly, and when told this harry had agreed to go under the knife without a second thought. he's having second thoughts _now,_ now that the edges of his skin are being peeled back and he’s watching his body open up like a blooming flower in the mirror he’d requested they hang above him so he could watch the procedure.

when he gets his first glance inside himself he can’t restrain his gasp of horror and the acceleration of ekg beeps that results. his organs look like they’re rotting in his body. his tangled intestines and pockmarked liver and the quivering pouch of his stomach are all discolored and riddled with dark throbbing veins. even the spindly bones of his ribcage are tinted green and look brittle, breakable. he’s too shocked to say a word of protest as the doctors descend on him again, saw and spacer in hand, ready to crack apart those fragile ribs and expose the rest of his organs to the sterile air. the sound of his sternum snapping under the blade makes him grit his teeth, but what he sees when they finish prying open his ribcage is much, much worse.

he’s done his fair share of smoking, but not nearly enough to cause something like this. presumably once pink and smooth like the photos in anatomy books, his rapidly inflating and deflating lungs now have sores on them that greatly resemble the one on his neck. bouncing strenuously between them, his heart looks shriveled, sickly, and moves like every beat is a struggle as it pumps black, diseased blood to poison the rest of his organs. its pace quickens as he looks at it in the mirror above, eyes wide in horror. his internal anatomy looks like something out of a horror movie - alien, terrifying, _disgusting._

his mouth opens, dry and trembling, and he croaks, “this is _me?”_

no wonder he’s dying.

the ekg beeps are coming quicker and quicker every second, and he can hear his heart pounding along with it in the open air. his vision blurs as dizziness clouds his brain. it’s too much for him to take. anger swells in him and he can vaguely see his decaying lungs inflate around his laboring heart. his hands curl to fists and he begins to _scream_ , yelling curses and fighting against the bonds that hold him down, convulsing and struggling -

\- and then the doctors slide a needle under his skin and cool liquid flows into him, circulated quickly by the frantic pump in his open chest. his breathing slows and his fingers uncurl, twitch sporadically, as his mind goes blank. he loses sight of the mirror completely when his heavy lids shut over his eyes.

when he wakes up, he’s alone.

he’s been moved from the operating table to a white-walled hospital room, scarcely furnished but for the multitude of high-tech machines around him, monitoring his vitals. he can feel the iv in his arm, leaking liquid and numbing agents into his veins, and notes several other wires and tubes attached to him in various places, draining blood and fluid. with a shaking arm he pulls away the blankets, rips the hospital gown from his chest, fearing what he’ll see.

what he sees is a bunch of electrodes and a thick line of stitches down the center of his body.

harry touches the wound gingerly with trembling fingertips, tracing over the bumps of each stitch tying him together. the edges of the closed-up wound are green instead of red. eventually his hand fists again and he tears the electrodes off, making the ekg flatline, and with great effort swings his legs off the bed. he stumbles toward the bathroom, feeling the tug under his skin as the iv stand is dragged along behind him. the hospital gown falls away, leaving him naked in front of the mirror, panting as he holds onto the sides of the sink for stability.

when he looks at his body and the green scar that splits it, he can only see the gruesome organs he knows are hiding inside, pulsing just under his skin. he can feel them, feel his lungs expanding his sore ribs as his heart beats against them, see the bones shift and shake. though every inch of him aches he slams his fist into the mirror, too weak to break it, but too angry to hold back.

he’s a _monster._ he's a monster, and as he observes his green sores and scar, he wonders how long it will take before his outsides match his insides.

he claws at the stitches, a grimace of disgust twisting his features. he half expects them to come loose and let his guts spill out onto the bathroom floor with a sick wet slap. he thinks he would _prefer_ it to this, knowing that he’s full of corrupted organs and black blood, a disease he can’t _escape_ -

he crouches over the sink and retches, desperate to rid himself of something, _anything_ , as if the sickness might be expelled in the acid of his stomach as it drips from his mouth and slides down the sink drain. he coughs and coughs but there’s nothing inside him to vomit and in a few seconds the doctors return and usher him back to the bed as he cries in broken sobs.


End file.
